"Oh, what a tangled web we weave
When first we practice to deceive!"
-Sir Walter Scott
The value of the lie is equal to that of the truth.
We were always encouraged to speak the truth, and only the truth. We grew up with the threat than lying was a sinful action that would wrought shame, distrust, and misfortune upon us; fables such as “Pinocchio” and “The Boy who Cried Wolf” reinforced those notions. We went through childhood with our parents telling us to tell the truth; we go through school with teachers telling us to tell the truth; we will step into a courtroom, where we will be told to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing else, so help us God.
Then why do we lie?
Because we learned lying has its rewards.
The word “Lie” itself comes from a straightforward etymology. Derived from the Old English word lēoġan, which itself was derived from Germanic leugan, both words had the same meaning as what we now consider a “Lie”: a purposely erroneous statement. Words like Lying and Deception have all garnered such a negative connotation that people shudder as those sounds sting and singe the soul as the cold breath of authority and the brimstone fires of hell both collide on a person’s soul.
Lying is considered worldwide as an action worthy of shun. Societies and cultures have their own folklore and fairytales about lying and the misfortune it brings, most of which had their morals and lessons immortalized. As previously mentioned, tales like “Pinocchio” and “The Boy who Cried Wolf” illustrated the possible horrors and dangers of a lie, whether it be an elongated nose or an ironic death. Philosophers warned of the hazards of lying, some of the notable consequences being the reduction of trust from society and the perversion of the communication of thoughts and ideas. Thomas Aquinas, as severe as it may be, believed that one should be beaten, tortured, and murdered, rather than lie.
One never questions why we lie, often because those who learn to lie will acquire that skill that it becomes interwoven with their natural train of thought, where lying is as possible and available as speaking itself. Is this a terrible, sinful act?
Let’s face it: it has been common truth that people lie and live with it. The lie has become as common as the truth, perhaps even more so than we perceive: for every truth, there are an infinite number of possible lies. Politicians lie, Homeless lie, parents lie, teachers lie, I lie, and, despite what you may want to believe, you lie too.
Let it be known, however: we do not lie without reason.
We do not lie for our moral souls; we lie for our own benefit, whether it is to evade a threatening circumstance, to place a disliked group in a disadvantageous circumstance, or to upgrade your own circumstances. A child will tell their teacher that they have a doctor’s appointment to get out of a test, a band that says their rivals don’t make their own music, an employee claiming that they solved a problem single-handedly: all of them lied, but to their own benefit: the child will get out of that test, the band’s rivals and their music will be questioned, the employee will get a commendation or even a raise. When prompted, a person will respond with the truth much quicker than with the lie; when prompted with an incentive to lie, that same person told the truth much less often. We lie for a reason, and never without.
There is a certain skill, a sort of art, of the lie: it takes a quick wit and a convincing act, but above all else, it requires intelligence. When broken down step by step, lying requires a very complex and highly abstract level of thinking. To begin, one must take the truth and analyze it to the fullest extent for possible holes and exploitations. Next, they must formulate a believable alternate reality of sorts, where the actions that occurred are replaced with a different happening, utilizing the same clues and activities that caused the initial action. Finally, they must convince another party that to believe this alternate reality actually happened. Lying is a sign of higher intelligence, so if your child attempts to slyly slide a lie past you, it can come as a blessing and a curse: your child has begun to think abstractly, creatively, and on a higher level than his peers, but if their actions are effective enough, lying will be a tool at his disposal that he or she may be more than willing to utilize.
We humans are not the only beings capable of deception either: animals and insects can deceive others, sometimes as a matter of survival. Camouflage is one form of lying visually, and several organic beings rely on camouflage to survive in their environments. Mimicry is to lie about one’s identity, and to become what they are not, common place among insects. Some chemical and organic compounds can be used as decoys for predators, or bait for prey; this is especially present with mammals. Feigning is used to either divert or attract attention, especially with wolves and apes. Even the lying that we conduct on a regular basis occurs with our chimpanzee cousins: Koko the gorilla, after a tantrum, broke a sink, and told her handlers that her pet kitten had done it. Even though lying is not normally associated beyond humans, animals are indeed guilty of the same crime.
In the end, the question of, “Is Lying Bad” comes back to perspectives, beliefs, and backgrounds. We cannot deny, however, that we deceive in order to better benefit ourselves and for others. We lie as a way to get what we want, or to avoid what we don’t. We lie because it is in our nature to progress. To progress in our lives, we progress in the art, the art of Lying.

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ReplyDeleteThis is fascinating, Ryan. To my mind, your image, "The cake is a lie," plays with our culture's obsession with dimensionless and false treats--whether they come as glamour displayed on a billboard or riches promised through a hedge fund. Yours is a psychologically astute piece that has me thinking.
ReplyDeleteAnd that's no lie.
MG
P. S. Are you aware of the new tv show "Lie to Me" that explores the science of lying? It looks potentially interesting.